Life Goes On
by JAAXX
Summary: Long after the thrill of living is gone. Tate/Violet. Set directly after Afterbirth.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Violet POV_

The last three years have been nothing but smears of blurry paint on an oily canvas for Violet Harmon. Potential home owners stay well enough away from the notorious Murder House now, not many folks have shown much interest after the stint the Harmons pulled on the last family. Violet wishes she could've gone with them and left this house behind, but the dried out corpse of her former self is a constant reminder that she's bound to these walls for eternity. Sometimes she'll escape to the dusty crawl space to be alone with her body. She's practically mummified by now, the dry California heat keeping her preserved like a chili pepper. Part of her finds the sight disgusting and highly unsanitary, but the other part enjoys the eeriness of her sad, wailing corpse.

She doesn't see Tate around anymore. Once, she can hardly remember when, she thought she caught a glimpse of his sweater, but she brushed it off as a subconscious trick of the mind. She's tried her best to move on, but it's not like there's any fish left in the sea for her. She misses having somebody to talk to, somebody to hold her when she cries and tell her everything will be alright. She has her parents, of course, but so does that scrawny little baby they so lovingly named Mason. He should be three by now, walking and talking, doing all the things toddlers do, not continuing to suck the life out of Violet's mother and grab all of her attention with his incessant screams and cries. She tries to love the little brat, she really does, but it's hard to be cast to the side for a little dead baby for all of eternity. She's cursed now, just like the rest of them, forced to watch her family pretend their daughter is okay to make room for the weak soul of a stillborn.

She still cuts. She doesn't know why she bothers, they only close back up moments after they're made. It's the only way to get a taste of what it felt like to be alive again, like a clearing in a cloud of smog, allowing her to breathe once again. It's not long before the feeling wears off and the cloud suffocates her again, robbing her of her very last high strung breath over and over again in her own little silent hell. She needs to breathe, she needs oxygen; she needs Tate. He made her feel free when she still had a pulse, he's the only one who can make her feel that way again. She's done being angry with him, though she's not quite sure if she truly was in the first place. What he did was fucked up, but isn't everything that happens in this house? She can't justify her mother's rape, but she can't live a life of hallow loneliness anymore, either. It's a debate that has been tugging at her heart for far too long, she's finally ready to take her chances.

Violet stands in her room, the very room she was in when she banished Tate from her life, it only seems fitting to let him back in here. "Tate?" She calls out, her nerves making her voice sound timid and unsure. "Tate." She calls again, though this time her tone is more confident and demanding. The feeling that she's being watched hits her very suddenly like a ton of bricks. She whirls around to see Tate standing hardly a foot away from her, straining to maintain eye contact with her and not the ground. "You're here." Her cold heart fills with life, she feels as if it's about to burst out of her chest.

"I'm always here, Violet." Tate says, testing his boundaries by taking another step forward. She thinks about backing away, but that would only hinder the healing process of their already violently battered relationship. "I always will be."

He has no choice but to stay, but Violet senses another meaning to his words. He'll always be waiting for her, he always has been. He's here for her and only her, there isn't some sick baby or sadistic slut on his mind, only her and her alone. Despite her greatest effort to hold them back, tears begin to stream down her cheeks. Her knees start to go weak as she backs up against the foot of her old bed, another thing left from a past life that she's forced to hang on to. Waves of sobs pass through her body when she feels his arms around her, pulling her head against his chest, the way he used to before she forced him away. It's confusing, to feel so right with someone who's done so much wrong, but she's tired of lying to herself. She's tired of denying those feelings that were always too disturbing for her to face, she's tired of being alone, she's just…_tired. _

"It's okay, I'm here now." He says, stroking her hair. "I'm not going anywhere." All the tears she's never allowed herself to shed over him come all at once, she sobs so hard her body shakes. She's held so much in, _too _much in for those three years they've been separated, the release of emotions if something she's needed for a very long time. "I'm so sorry, Violet, I never meant…I wasn't…" She hears his voice tremble. "I missed you."

They lay there for a while, allowing their sobs to settle down into occasional gasps for air and their emotions to stabilize themselves. Needless to say, this isn't how Violet planned this would go down. She didn't want to cry, she wanted to make herself seem strong to mask the weakness of her running back into his arms, but it all proved to be too much for her poor, undead heart. She can't let her parents know about this, they'll think she's betrayed them, she has to keep this a secret. As she looks up into Tate's dark, teary eyes, she knows it's a secret worth keeping.

**AN: Thanks for reading, it's pretty short because it's more of an introduction into further chapters. It's been awhile since I've written anything, but this is my first American Horror Story fic, please review and tell me if the characterization is alright, it would mean a lot to have some opinions.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Tate POV_

Tate couldn't keep himself from crying. He never really could, though, even as a little boy. He can tolerate physical pain, it's the emotional anguish that he was never given the strength to bite through. Violet is so different, she's strong and he needs her if he's going to be strong, too. Who is he fooling? He'll never be brave like her. He remembers Addie was always brave like that, hell, he's pretty sure his sister wasn't afraid of anything. He misses her. He misses how she'd sneak into the house just to tell him about her day without any fear of getting caught, the mischief in her eyes. As much as he loved her, she deserved the peace she got, her poor soul doesn't belong on this cursed land.

"Violet…" He whispers as their sobs subside. She looks up at him with those sad hazel eyes, filled with confusion and remorse. Is she already regretting allowing him back in her afterlife? He can't lose her, not now and not ever. "This'll work, okay? _We'll _work. Forever and always, just like before." He's hopeful, but maybe he's too hopeful, maybe he's just setting his tainted heart up to be knocked right over again.

He's caught completely off guard when she presses her lips against his, becoming fully immersed in the moment and the feelings it brings. All the pain, all the torment he sat through led up to this moment of relief. Forgiveness is what he wants, but he's not sure, even with the deepening of her kiss, if he's actually been forgiven. "Vi…" He's cut off when her leg crosses over his lap to straddle him, sending a jolt through his body that he's been craving for far too many years. He shudders the moment her cold fingers touch the bare skin beneath his shirt, the sensation burns despite the icy temperature of her skin.

"We'll talk about it later." She says, the breathless tone of her voice sending shivers down his spine. He doesn't have the strength to protest anymore, he's not sure if he ever did. Whatever needs to be sorted out can wait, he needs her right now more than anything else in the world. He can tell there's something she's not telling him, something she's holding back, but she needs this just as much as he does.

This won't fix them, nothing is going to fix them, this is just a selfish escape from the horrors this house forces on them every day. They're damaged beyond repair but, as she pulls her shirt over her head, everything else becomes distant and irrelevant. He trails his fingers along every curve of her body, pressing light kisses along her jawline and down her neck. "You're beautiful." He mumbles into her shoulder, pulling her close against him as if it's the last time he'll ever hold her because, for all he knows, it could be. "Wait, Violet-"

"No." She persists, clumsily unbuttoning his flannel. He doesn't know why he continues to resist like this, but he's guessing it's guilt. It's a crippling guilt that's been rotting him away from the inside, taking him over like a virus without a cure. Violet isn't his cure, she's a wool blanket to keep his body warm until he's better, giving him a false sense of the security he craves so strongly. Within a few small, sensually slow moments, the two of them gradually strip out of their clothing and lay back down on the dusty sheets.

Once their bodies have settled into a warm, comforting embrace, Tate gently hooks her leg across his waist and hovers above her body, taking in the rare warmth of her skin. He's about to ask if she's sure that she truly wants to be with him again, but the impatient glint in her eyes convinces him to just shut his damn mouth and be with her. He leans down into a slow kiss that quickly turns rough and needy as Violet urges him on. He wants this reunion to last, he doesn't want her to leave him again. His spine tingles as her fingernails lightly trace down his back, giving him her own signal to move on.

_Violet POV_

Everything seemed so right, up until this very moment. Violet truly thought she'd be able to do this, that she'd _enjoy _doing this, but it doesn't feel quite right. As he slides himself into her, all that's on her mind is what he did to her mother. Is this how it happened? Did he hover over her with those cold, calculating eyes, every move precise and deliberate? Was it forceful? Did he hurt her? She forces her eyes shut, pulling him close so she doesn't have to look at his face. She grits her teeth, cringing at the feeling of his cold breath against her ear. She pushes her hips up against him, urging him to pick up the pace and get this over with.

She's conflicted, no, she's at _war _with herself. Everything feels so right, but also twice as wrong. She needs him, at least that's what she keeps telling herself. He hurt her mom, but he didn't hurt her, not on purpose, anyway. Who is she to hold a grudge that's not even hers to hold onto? Even still, she feels like she's betraying her mother by being with Tate, but her mother isn't around anymore. No, her mom is busy with that fucked up little bundle of bones, but that thing would've been perfectly fine had it not been for Tate's parasitic spawn.

"Violet?" His voice, low and raspy, breaks her out of her trance. He lifts his head up to stare down at her, his eyes searching for something that probably isn't even there anymore.

"It's okay." She responds, pulling him close again. She can't look at his face, it makes her too angry. She doesn't even know who she's angry with anymore; her parents, Mason, Tate, but mostly herself. She feels his mouth against the crook of her neck as a small, involuntary sound leaves his mouth. She cringes when she feels his release inside of her, her mind drifting back to that scraggly child again. This is how he killed her mom.

When he's done, she instantly feels disgusted with herself. He looks down at her with that insecure look that he's always worn so well. What the hell does he expect her to say? "Uhm…" God, why does he have to look so guilty all the time? But, then again, why _wouldn't _he look guilty? After all the shit he's done, she'd be far more worried if his eyes lacked any sort of remorse.

"I was shit, wasn't I?" His voice trembles ever so slightly with just a hint of self-loathing. He hates himself and Violet can't help but feel satisfied about that. It's a constant reminder of how fucked up this place and all of its inhabitants are. What she's doing, what she's done in betraying her family, it doesn't matter in this house. The house is a beacon of bad mojo, so who's to say she can't embrace it? In that moment, she feels almost…enlightened. The only way to feel alive is to accept herself as a part of the evil that dwells in the underbelly of this house.

"No." She reaches across the bed to grab her underwear, sliding them back on and trying her best to ignore the confused protest from Tate. "I need a shower, alright?" She tries to act as casual as she can, despite her inner turmoil.

"Well, I can co-" Violet shakes her head before he can even finish that thought.

"No, Tate. I need to be alone." He seems to accept that and fiddles with the sheets a little before gathering up his own clothes. She doesn't _want _to be alone, she _needs _to be alone. The problem with this place is that nobody is ever truly alone, there's always someone around the corner that has something to say. The only solitude she can usually find lies in the dusty crawl place where her body rests, nobody seems to venture down there besides her. Maybe it's an act of reverence, a respectful gesture for not only her body, but her soul.

"I'll call for you later, okay?" Violet says, allowing herself to disappear from Tate. It's easier that way, out of sight and out of mind.

She chooses the bathroom on the first floor of the house. It's smaller and the lights aren't so bright, she likes it. She turns on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it can go. Now that she's dead, she craves the heat. No matter how much she has, it'll never be enough to warm her frigid skin. She steps under the steaming waterfall, resting her forehead against the cool tile paneling. Thoughts pour into her mind until she feels like they'll over flow out her ears, creating an illegible cacophony that not even the brightest mind could decipher. She furiously scrubs her body down, trying to make Tate's musky scent disappear. She thinks she ought to cry, but she can't bring herself to anymore. Instead she just stands under the water until it grows cold.

She wraps a towel around herself and another around her head. She doesn't worry about her clothes, they're no more real that she is now. She still doesn't understand how clothes work in this little world, but somehow everyone is in a different outfit every day, despite their things being as gone as their beating hearts. She'll just drop her towel and she'll be in a new set of clothes, usually something she once owned. She once asked Nora about it, but she wasn't even lucid at the time, the poor woman is still searching for her ravenous little Frankenstein baby.

Violet, now fully clothed, makes her way back upstairs. She looks into the nursery, not because she wants to, but it's sort of become an instinct of hers. Everyone in the house wants that poor excuse for a child and they still keep a watchful eye, even after all this time. That's why it's odd that little Mason is taking a nap in his crib without mom or dad around. She walks up to the cherry red crib, a disgusting reminder about the plans certain people in this house had for the babies. Chad still complains about her mom choosing to keep the red one, saying it messed with the flow of the room or some weird shit.

"Hey, little bro." She whispers, leaning against the crib to stare down at him. "You're probably the ugliest baby I've ever seen." His legs are scrawny and veiny, his skin is this ugly shade of grey. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure you'll grow into your looks." She smiles a little at her own sadistic poke at the baby's curse. She wouldn't say it's his curse, it's more her mother's. She'll never be able to free herself from the little monster, he'll always cling onto her like the little parasite that he is.

"I could kill you right now." Violet says, alarmed but not the least bit remorseful about her sudden shift in their one sided conversation. "I could smother you with your own teddy bear and nobody would even know, you'd just come back." She grits her teeth. "You'll always come back, you'll always take them away from me." She reaches into the crib, gripping his throat, tightening her hold when he tries to let out a frightened cry.

"They were mine first, they loved me, _me!_" His ashen face begins to turn an alarming shade of red as long awaited tears roll down her cheeks. "Now you're here, sucking out everything they have to give and leaving nothing in return, leaving nothing for me." She sobs harder, her hand locked around Mason's neck like a noose. "You should've never been born." His face turns purple, then blue, then back to grey as his pathetic squirming subsides. Violet lets out a hard, jagged breath she didn't even realize she was holding until now as she stares down at the tiny, lifeless body.

She backs away from the crib, taking a seat on the creaky old rocking chair her mom brought up from the basement, staring down at her hand as if it was a foreign object. What has she done? She feels numb, she can't breathe. She just murdered her little brother in a cold, jealous rage. She's become a monster, she's become one with the very darkness that lurks in this house. Why did she snap? Why was he alone? And the question that disturbs her the most;

Why does she feel so _alive_?

**AN: Thank you for reading! I'm not sure how my characterization was for either of the two characters portrayed in this chapter, but I hope you'll tell me! I hope to make the next chapter a little longer, so it may take a bit more time to get it out. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Violet POV_

"Violet!" She jumps in the chair at the sound of her mother's voice. "God, you scared me." She sounds so relieved, but Violet can't help but feel she's in trouble. She did, after all, just kill her little brother in cold blood. It's not like she _actually _killed him, he's already dead after all. "I thought maybe Nora was back. You know that woman just won't give up, she still thinks I'm just the help." She picks up the little bundle in his blanket, turning to her daughter with a smile. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Violet shrugs, getting up out of the seat to allow her mom to sit and feed Mason. "I've seen cuter." She wants to say that the little skeleton is the ugliest thing she's ever seen in her life, but she can't bring herself to say it. It hurts to see her smile at that baby. She used to look at Violet like that, before all of this fucked up shit started to beat their lives into a bruised and bloody pulp. Her mother just smiles and takes out her breast for Mason.

"Okay, now." Violet says, turning around towards the door. It's not like she hasn't seen her mother's bare chest before, but it's just weird to watch that little thing latch onto her like that. He's always so desperate, like he's been starved for days, clinging onto her like a vicious wood tick. He's sucking the life out of her, but she doesn't even seem to notice.

"Oh, don't be immature." Her mom's words hurt. They weren't meant to belittle her, but all she can think about is how she's never going to get a chance to mature, she'll always be stuck in this hormonal teenage body with newly discovered homicidal tendencies. Violence has never been a problem with Violet, but strangling her brother freed the bubbling volcanic rage she's kept buried for so long, the release was more satisfying than any cut she could inflict on herself.

"I'm not…it just skeevs me out. He doesn't even _need _to eat, he's as dead as the rest of us." She can tell, even with her back turned, that those words hurt her mom. "I-I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't." Vivian replies, pulling her blouse back over her exposed chest, despite Mason's protests. "I know he doesn't need to eat anymore, but he needs _me _and this is the closest way to bond with him."

"What about _me, _mom?" Violet snaps, her sudden outburst inspiring a small whimper from the baby. "Th-that _thing _has been sucking the life out of you for three year straight. He's not bonding, he's just stuck in his little drooly baby mind and he always will be." She should stop before this gets out of hand and somebody gets hurt, but something has found its way inside of her, something dark, something addicting.

"How can you say that about him? What the _hell _has gotten into you" Her mother retorts, holding his tiny head against her chest, the same way she used to do for Violet when she'd be upset.

"Don't you see?" Her eyes well up with unwanted tears. The baby will never grow up, she'll never have her parents back. She prepared for a year or two of their undivided attention going towards the baby, but not an eternity. She can't face her mother, not now. Instead she just masks herself from the eyes of her mother, trying to ignore her muffled cries as she runs off to escape this private hell.

Violet can't help but feel like she's being punished for forgiving Tate. Not just for today, but for all the days before when she considered calling out his name for a cheap comfort. She makes a dash to the kitchen, abruptly dry heaving into the sink. Nothing comes out and nothing ever will come out now that she's a dead girl walking. She wipes the drool from her chin, staring at her reflection in the metallic finish of the sink.

"Oh, Violet." She hears a patronizing voice from behind. She turns around, hoping she was just hearing things.

"Hayden." Violet lets out a heavy sigh, she can't deal with this bitch right now. "What do you want?" She crosses her arms, feeling suddenly vulnerable in her position. Hayden could do anything to her right now and she'd have nowhere to run. Despite her immortality, fear is something that didn't die along with her beating heart.

"Heard you had a little visit with Tate." A spark of sadism sparks in the eyes of the young adulteress, making Violet feel more than a little nervous. "Tell me, how'd it go?"

Violet backs up, only to find her back against the hard counter top. "How'd you-" Hayden just rolls her eyes.

"I know about everything that goes on in this house." She gloats with almost maternal-like pride. "Did you guys talk at all?" A devious smirk twitches at the corners of her mouth. "Of course you didn't." She takes a step forward and Violet has nowhere to run. "I fucked him, you know."

Violet's lips quiver, Hayden just had this way about her that made everyone she tried to hurt tuck their tail between their legs like a scared puppy dog. "Wh-what?"

"Wh-What?" She mocks with a devious chuckle. "Oh, Vi, you expected a broken hearted little psychopath to be faithful to such a distant dream? I fucked him the day you kicked him out." She brushes Violet's hair out of her face, earning her a slap on the hand. "Oh, ouch, looks like Violet's getting violent." She wishes she could wipe that stupid smirk off that homewrecker's face.

"You're liar." Violet tries her best to keep her voice strong, but after today's events, it's close to impossible to keep it from cracking. "You always have been, you're just a dirty, rotten, lying _whore._" Before she even has time to react, Hayden's palm slaps hard into her cheek, causing her head to fall to the side and crack on the cabinet. She touches her hair, feeling the sticky blood between her fingers. "You'll regret that."

Hayden just cocks her head to the side with that rotten grin of hers. "Will I?"

"Yes, you will." Violet turns and, despite her head wound-induced haze, can make out the figure of her father holding a long knife. "You come near my daughter or anyone else I care about, you'll regret it for eternity."

Hayden just laughs. "Well, if it isn't daddy coming to save the day. You're lucky, Vi, at least he's around when _you_ need him."

She's gone before Violet can really understand what she meant. "Are you okay?" Her dad asks, inspecting the already fully healed wound on her forehead. "She can't hurt you, you know."

"Yeah, I know." She replies bitterly. Her relationship with her father hasn't been the greatest over the years, especially with Hayden's constant torturing. It's her dad's fault that psycho-bitch is trapped here with them, it's his fault that she's even involved in this family at all. "You should go check on Mom and Mason." She says, secretly hoping that he'll insist on staying with her. Her expectations bar is set way to high.

"You're right, who knows what the fuck Hayden is up to now." He walks off, knife still in his hand, to go check on the two more important things in his afterlife, leaving Violet in the dust for the umpteenth time since their death.

_Tate POV _

Tate sits on the brick divider on the porch, smoking a cigarette under the night sky, trying to sort through his own emotions like dusty folders in an abandoned filing cabinet. Why did Violet leave him so soon? She's not coming back, she's still mad at him. She wouldn't lead him on, though, would she? Maybe he needs to do something to prove himself to her, something drastic. He's seen the way she looks at that baby, he's only caught glimpses but it's enough to see she can't stand it. He should steal it. He could take it, gag it and hide it in the floorboards where the thing will never be found again.

"You know, you can't spend your whole life moping about like a weepy child." Nora's cold, yet comfortingly familiar voice sounds from behind him. "You ought to know that the Harmon girl isn't going to go for a sappy little boy, no, that one deserves a man and she knows it."

"I see you're lucid." Tate smiles. Nora, despite her below average maternal instincts, has always managed to bring a certain type of comfort that Constance could never give him. "And, believe me, I know it too."

"So then stop brooding and do something about it." She adjusts her shawl against the wind with far more grace than was needed for such a simple little thing.

"I gotta think." He says, putting the cigarette out and tossing it aside. "I'll show her, I'll show all of you."

Nora chuckles, resting her hand on her heart. "Oh, Tate, I'll be waiting for the day."

"You could help me." He says, turning to face her for the first time since she showed up. "Steal the baby, it makes her sad."

"Oh, dear." She replies, making an audible _hmph. _"That little sapling? I have no need for the thing anymore, I have my hands full with Thaddeus."

"You wouldn't have to keep it, just help me get him out." Tate hops off the wall. "We'll hide him somewhere so nobody can find him, so he can't hurt Violet anymore. C'mon, help me out."

"Now how can such a little thing hurt a gal like Violet, hm?" She sighs and clutches her shawl tight against another gust of wind. "Ah, very well. Never could resist your little evil puppy eyes, now could I? Now when are we supposed to carry out this little heist?"

"Tomorrow." He says. "Meet me in the basement and I'll tell you what I had in mind."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the rather, er, lengthy hiatus. I had a lot on my plate when I was originally writing this, but now I've graduated and I have a lot of time on my hands. Thank you to anyone who comes back to this, hope fully there's still some of you around!**_

Chapter 4

_Violet's POV_

"What are you doing sulking around here?" Violet looks up to see Chad pacing the parlor with a sour look on his face. "In here of all places. I suppose it's fitting, it's hard not to look dreary with that demonically tacky mural exposed." He takes a seat on the ottoman across from the faded leather chair she's been curled up on for the past half hour. "Why did your mother ever unearth this dreaded thing, anyway?"

"She said it added character." She replies curtly. "Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be looking through _Interior Design _for the billionth time?"

"You never answered my first question, Vi." He crosses his legs and rests his chin on his hand as if he were actually interested in the reasoning behind her slightly higher than average amount of gloom.

"Don't call me Vi, only my parents call me that."

"Tate calls you that." She shoots a high powered glare his way. "Oooh, yeesh. If looks could kill."

"Don't talk about Tate." She crosses her arms in a pathetically poor attempt to seem cool and aloof at the mention of Tate. The truth is, she'd love to hear him say her name again. After that small taste of his arms around her again, she's not sure if she'll have the will to keep him away anymore.

"Okay, okay!" He waves his arms in defense. "You know, we're a lot alike, you and I."

"Ugh, why haven't you left yet?" He's testing her patience. That's the type of person he is, always trying to find buttons to push, even if he doesn't mean to. She hasn't interacted with him much, but she knows he can be a little shit.

"Just think about it, V." As if that little nickname is much better. "We're both trapped in a house with the man who stole our hearts and we just can't get them back to save our lives." She purses her lips, trying to keep her frustration at bay. "It's a shitty feeling, isn't it? Being bound like this."

Violet remains silent for a few moments to take in what Chad revealed to her. She never thought about him that way, how he has to share this house with the man who broke his heart, probably because she never really talked to him unless he was informing her of the bags under her eyes. She never thought of the spirits in this house as human, it's easy to forget that they were once mortal, just like her. Chad wasn't always a bitter, sarcastic dead guy—He was a man. Albeit, a bitter and sarcastic man, but a man nonetheless.

"It is a shitty feeling." She finally responds, looking up at him for the first time since they started talking. "I thought if I pushed him far enough away, he wouldn't be here, but…"

"He's always there." He finishes for her, patting her knee.

She nods, biting her lip, furiously trying to hold back a sob. She wants Tate to be gone, but she also wants him to hold her tight in his arms and tell her everything will be alright. She hates herself for the way she feels about him, she should be ashamed, but she's not. Death was supposed to bring her peace, not this shit.

"Makes you want Rocky Road, doesn't it?" He lets out a nostalgic sigh. "Oh, Rocky Road."

Violet smiles, the truest smile she's had in a long time. "Yeah, I'd give anything for even vanilla ice cream at this point."

"It's settled then, shopping on Halloween. We'll stock the freezer up with all the ice cream we can steal."

"Deal." Violet grins, welcoming the sudden change of topic. This has probably been the first (semi) positive conversation that she's had in a very long time. "…Thanks."

"I'd say you're welcome, but I have to confess…I did this more for me than you. I need a friendly face around here."

"Me too."

_Tate's POV_

Tate paces around the dark, musty basement. He's used to that smell by now, that stench of death and dust. A small part of him has come to like the scent, sometimes it even brings him comfort, but not today. He has to come up with a plan to steal that damn baby. It'll be hard with the Harmons attached to him all day and night like Velcro, but how will he be with Violet if he doesn't?

"Whatcha doin' down here?" Hayden asks, her voice making Tate's brain itch with anger. It's a strange feeling that's led to more problems that he'd like to take credit for, a light scratchy feeling in the back of his head telling him to explode. "Little Tate, always thinking, always brooding. Are you scheming? I _love _scheming."

"None of your goddamn business Hayden, now go away, you're always fucking things up." He can't concentrate, he's too frustrated. How hard can it be to steal a fucking _baby_, and a weak one at that.

"If I recall correctly, I believe you've done your share of fucking up, mister." She's so patronizing, so cocky, so not what he needs right now. "Your face is all red Tate. Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you a little bit angry?"

He hates her, he absolutely one hundred percent hates her. There are a lot of things he truly hates, but she's the closest to him. He grabs the first hard object he sees, a rusty old wrench, and charges her. Unfortunately, he didn't catch her off guard and she puts up a bigger fight that he hoped.

"C'mon, Tate!" She laughs. "Break my bones, make me bleed, see if I care!" He swings the wrench down at full force against her extended wrist. _Crack. _She laughs. _Crack crack crack. _

Tate blacks out. When he comes to, he's straddling Hayden's bloody body, the only movement coming from her torso when she coughs up blood. He hardly recognizes her face it's so cracked and split, it's beautiful. He feels that sweet relief that spreads through his body and mind after a black out, something he could never find in any drug. He stands up and wipes the sweat from his brow, smearing his face with blood in the process. He leaves the spurting body behind and retreats to the little crawl space that houses Violet's rotted corpse and sits at the edge. A feeling of tranquility washes over him and he can finally think.

He knows how he's going to get rid of that baby.

_Violet's POV_

Chad's little visit was enough to keep Violet occupied, but once they were done trying to make each other laugh with crude jokes, she found herself alone in the parlor again. She's almost mad at him for leaving her so soon, does he really have anything better to do? For once she just wants somebody to stay with her for a while, even if it's just to make penis jokes. Her mind drifts to Tate again. She wonders what he's doing, _who _he's doing. No, she won't let Hayden's little comment get to her. She's a lying skank, always has been always will be, the craziest of all crazy bitches. Still, it doesn't seem that unbelievable, does it? She pushed Tate so far away, what would've stopped him from finding something new to keep him occupied?

No. She saw the look in his eyes when she invited him back. He missed her, he longed for her, and he waited for her. Violet can't help but remind herself of what her dad put her mom through. He waited for her, but that didn't stop him from getting a little something on the side from _Hayden. _She clenches the leather arm rests until her knuckles turn white, trying to suppress her tears. What's so special about that psychotic little bitch? How could she have the power to steal Violet's father and her boyfriend? She sucks in a loud gasp of air, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle her sobs.

She thinks about when she was happy, which only makes her cry harder. She used to be daddy's little girl, mommy's shining star, now what is she? She's a fuck up, just like the rest of them. If her mom had been happy with the family she had, this wouldn't have happened. The miscarriage, the affair, the house—none of it would've happened and Violet would be okay. Instead, her family is so broken that she no longer fits into their puzzle.

"Are you alright, Violet?" A familiar, soft spoken voice asks. Moira, the poor, cursed maid and one of the few souls in this house Violet doesn't distain.

"Yeah, I just…"

"I know." She replies. "It's good to see you cry, Violet." Violet looks up, confused and almost offended. "I haven't seen much emotion from you lately, I was beginning to worry."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Well, someone has to."

_Tate's POV_

When the clock strikes ten, Tate makes his way back to the main part of the basement, leaving Violet's remains to rest. He's pleased to see that Hayden hasn't stuck around, the only presence lingering is the occasional scrape of Thaddeus's nails hitting the floor somewhere in the darkness. Good, he doesn't need that ornery witch interfering. He's just happy to have her filthy blood off his skin.

"Nora?" He asks, looking around the room. It's not long until she's standing in the middle of the basement, looking rather lost. "…Nora?" She has a glazed look in her eyes, nothing like the sharp, perceptive gaze she had before.

"This isn't right, where is my baby?" Tate let's out an audible groan. "This…this isn't right, this is all wrong. Why are you in my house?"

"So much for that." His shoulder's slump. "C'mon, Nora, you have to snap out of it, I need you!" He puts his hands on her shoulders, shaking her violently. "You promised to help, wake up you loony bitch!" Her eyes well up with tears. "Don't you fucking cry again, I'm not putting up with this." He pushes her back, disappearing up the stairs and leaving her alone to sob.

He storms upstairs, though he has no idea what he's supposed to do. His plan is ruined, he needed Nora. His tranquil state from earlier is long gone and he can feel the frustration building up against his skull. He wants to…he wants to…He glances over at the parlor, Violet's curled up figure breaking him out of his momentary madness. She's reading a book, but he can tell she'd been crying. Her eyes are red and her face is puffy. He wants to hold her and tell her it's alright, but she doesn't want to see him. On top of all that, he's still embarrassed from their encounter earlier. At one point when he looked into her eyes he saw _disgust. _He _disgusts _her.

He feels that stupid pressure behind his eyes, tears begging to escape. He's such a cry baby, that's what Adelaide always called him. She never cried, she was so much stronger than him in so many ways. Poor Addie, she deserved so much better than she got.

He takes tentative steps towards Violet, resisting the urge to cower back to the basement. "…Violet?" He asks, as soft as he can, trying not to startle her.

She looks up at him, he can't seem to identify the emotion behind her eyes. She's neither angry nor forgiving, neither sad nor joyed. She seems…content…or simply emotionally drained. Either way, it worries him. He's used to that fire in her eyes, he fell in love with it. She's not like him, but she has the potential to be, that's what scares him. She has a darkness in her, but she still has a light. A light that Tate fears is fading very, very fast.

_Violet's POV_

"Tate?" Violet's not sure how she's supposed to respond to her new visitor. On one end, she's been waiting all day to see his face and hear his voice, but on the other she wishes he would disappear for eternity. She thinks back on what Chad said, about how they're forced to spend the rest of their afterlives in the presence of a man they can't have. Why can't she have Tate? For what he did to her mother? Vivien Harmon isn't Violet's mom anymore, she's Mason's, she's made that rather clear, so why can't she indulge once in a while?

She gets up from the chair for the first time in hours, her legs feel a little weak and her head's a bit dizzy, but she manages. She walks up to Tate and looks into his eyes, trying to find something, though she doesn't know what. Something good, maybe? Something sane.

"Vi?"

She smiles a little at the sound of her name on his lips. She lets herself forget the terrible things he's done for just a few indulgent moments until she can't bear to look at his face anymore. She rests her head on his chest, closing her eyes as his arms wrap around her. He's wearing his wool sweater, it's scratchy against her skin, she loves it. She wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes her eyes shut, forcing out a few left over tears. He strokes her hair, soothing her. For the first time in a long, long time, she lets herself feel good.

"Tate, follow me." She takes his cold hand in hers, gently leading him upstairs, to their special space in the attic where nobody can find them. Beau is up there, but he seldom appears, she's not too worried about him. She wants to be with Tate again, this time without all the guilt and confliction. This time she's just going to be selfish.

Tate pulls the ladder up behind him, sealing their fortress shut. "What di-" Violet doesn't give him a chance to finish that sentence. She cups his cheeks and presses a firm kiss against his lips. She pulls away to take one final look into his eyes, just to make sure that she doesn't change his mind. They're still empty, still black as night. They're perfect.

She pushes his sweater off his arms, letting it fall to the ground. This is the point of no return, there's no going back now. She peels off her shirt, revealing scars from a former life, pale and purple against her skin. He responds by removing his own, leaving himself so vulnerable and exposed, so pale and cold. She runs her finger tips down the center of his torso, eliciting a jagged shudder. In this moment she feels in control of at least this one aspect of her life. For once in her life she's truly powerful. She curls her fingers around the waist of his jeans, feeling extremely pleased when his hips push forward ever so slightly.

"Violet…" She looks up at him, a little irked that he interrupted her, but she lets him continue this time. "I missed you so much."

"Tate." His eyes widen expectantly. "No talking." His mouth promptly shuts. She's in control.

She removes her hands from his beltline. She likes this feeling, she wants it to last a little longer than it probably should. She brushes her lips against his collarbone, just barely running her fingernails up and down his sides, tracing the slight outline of his ribs. A soft sigh from Tate is enough to give her to confidence to be a little bolder. She kisses the crook of his neck, slowly working her way up, working with not only her lips, but her tongue and teeth as well. When he turns his head to expose more of his neck, another rush of excitement flows through her. She lets out a small, barely audible moan when he presses his hardening bulge against her. She's in control.

She backs away just enough to unclasp her bra and drop it at her feet. She _allows _Tate to take in her half naked body, even run his thumb across her nipple, causing her to shudder. She can't let him keep that power, though, she needs it. She takes his wrists and leads his hands away from her body, pressing herself close against him as they were before. She wants to play with him, just for a little be longer. She wraps her arms around his back, trailing her fingers up his spine. He leans down, his cold breath against her ear as he leaves soft, gentle kisses against her neck. She closes her eyes and lets out a content sigh, but it can't last. She slides her hand back in front of him and unbuttons his pants, pulling down the zipper at a painfully slow pace. For Tate, that is. She's in control.

She slides her hand down his jeans, taking his firm cock in her hand. He moans in a way she's never heard before, as if she's the only woman in the world who can make him feel this way. This idea only excites her even more, but she wants to take this slow. She strokes him slowly and deliberately, leaving the occasional trail of kisses along his neck and collar bone.

"You fucked up, Tate." She doesn't know what's gotten into her. "You fucked up really bad and there's no way you can make up for it." For some reason, this causes him to grunt and thrust forward just a little bit. And for some even odder reason, this turns her on more than anything. "You raped my mom, Tate, you raped her and left behind that little demon spawn that killed my mother." She shoves down his pants along with his boxers, exposing him completely. She's in control.

She pushes him down onto the bed and takes one more moment to look into her eyes. He's turned on, that's for sure, but there's something else. Just a hint of shame. She shakes her head and unbuttons her jeans, taking pleasure in the bewildered look on Tate's face. He doesn't know her next move, she's unpredictable, she's in control. She slides down the rest of her clothes and stands naked before him, sort of wishing she shaved before she died, but it doesn't really matter at this point. She crawls in top of him, inhaling sharply when her naked body comes into contact with his. She grinds against him, leaning down to kiss him. She can feel the occasional moan vibrate against her lips, usually responding with a moan of her own. She pulls away, taking hold of his wrists again and holding them above his head. She's in control.

"You're bad, Tate, very bad." She says, gripping him with her spare hand. "You hurt a lot of people and you should be ashamed." She leads his cock into her and she slowly pushes herself all the way down, burying him inside of her, eliciting a synchronized moan from the both of them. "You...you're fucked up." She begins to rock her hips methodically at first, but she quickly sinks into a natural, unbalances rhythm. "_Uh, fuck_, you're a fucking psychopath." She quickens the pace, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "_Mmm_, y-you…you…"

"What, Vi? _Uh,_ tell me." She opens her eyes to see a hunger growing in his features, something she's never seen in him before, not even when they first had sex. Her heart rate quickens to a whole new pace and she can feel a fire rapidly burning in her belly.

"Y-you hurt me, _Tate!_" She cries out, her movements becoming rigid and shaky. She places her hands against the headboard to balance herself out, she doesn't even protest when his hands grip her waist to steady her. She can hear him under her coming undone. His breath is ragged and his voice is hoarse when he says her name. She squeezes her eyes shut again and bites her lip, riding out her orgasm along with his. She lets her hands fall from the headboard as her body leans down to mesh with his. She rolls over onto the bed, weak and exposed. A small, guilty tear falls down her cheek. She's not in control.

"Shh." Tate says, brushing the tear away with his thumb. "Life's too_ long_ for so much sorrow."

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! I-I don't know what happened there. Let me tell you guys, when I started writing this I didn't expect it to lead to emerging dom!Violet by any means. Hell, I didn't even expect there to be sexy times. It just goes to show that your story doesn't always go where you think it might go. I hope to update more often now that I have more time on my hands. Please review, tell me what you think!**_


End file.
